


take me under the blue

by homerunning



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (only kinda), Bottom Hyuck, Bottom Jaemin, Demon Summoning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possession, Top Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-12-23 17:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homerunning/pseuds/homerunning
Summary: Jaemin helps a recently widowed Mark get back on his feet. It ends much more sinister than either of them planned.NCT Spookfest Theme: Demons and Possession





	take me under the blue

**Author's Note:**

> *mark lee voice* my fingers aren't mine
> 
> this fic involves donghyuck's off-screen character death, mark's grief after losing him, and heavy dub/non con in the beginning of the possession scene. don't read if that will bother you!
> 
> happy spooky season ~~

Nobody wants to go to the funeral.

Everyone sympathizes, of course. It’s horrible to lose your partner, especially when they’ve known each other so long, like Mark and Donghyuck did. High school sweethearts that got hitched only two weeks after graduation, anyone with a pair of eyes could see how in love with each other they were. But real life always inserts itself in the most hideous of ways, and everyone kept expecting for something, anything to break them apart - and yet, they stayed married for three smooth sailing years, almost sickeningly head over heels. Everyone eventually accepted that they were just one of those rare fairytales you come across in real life, something to keep in the back of your mind when the days get too difficult and you have trouble believing there’s really a purpose to it all.

And then Donghyuck was mugged walking home late at night from an errands run, and killed with a shot to the head. And everyone, privately, down in the darkest and most secret parts of their thoughts, was just a little self-satisfied that they turned out to be right all along, and life actually _was_ proved to be shitty for everyone like they thought.

So everyone sympathizes. But no one wants to go to the funeral, because no one wants to have to face Mark.

He completely unraveled when he lost Donghyuck, into something sniveling and anxious and so _open_ with their grief, and it was humiliating to watch. And the worst of it is on display, now, in the front row of the church while a priest gives Donghyuck’s eulogy – his voice is in competition with the wracking, piercing sobs from Mark, the tremors of his shoulders visible from even the back of the room. It’s horrible and painful to watch and everyone sitting in the pews feels bad, of course they do, but they also kind of want him to shut up.

Jaemin, though, sitting in the back of the hall, watches the whole scene with a stabbing pain in his chest, wishing he had the courage to go up and sit next to Mark and hold him while he cries and give him an ounce of comfort that no one else in this shitty town is willing to give.

Jaemin knew them both, back in high school. He’d always been friendly with Donghyuck, it’s just – he also couldn’t stand him at the same time, because he was in love with Mark. And more importantly, he was in love with Mark _first._ But then Donghyuck moved in their second year and he was stunning and radiant and golden and it was no wonder that Mark fell in his orbit, Jaemin didn’t blame him. He just kind of always wanted to go up to Donghyuck and punch him in the face for cutting in line.

But now, watching Mark’s devastation, feeling these aches in his chest, he wants to take it all back – he’d trade anything to get Donghyuck back, to see Mark happy again. Seeing the boy he loved in such horrific grief was tearing him apart.

And so when he finally screws up the nerve to go approach Mark after the service, he’s not sure if it’s actually to comfort Mark, or if it’s to make himself feel better. But from the way Mark lightens, even by just a fraction, Jaemin doesn’t think it matters.

“Jaemin, hi,” Mark says, and his voice is scratchy and small and torn, and Jaemin, politely, pretends not to notice. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it.”

Jaemin nods his agreement, heart twisting painfully – he only saw them occasionally after they all graduated, whenever they stopped by the store he worked at, and he’d always have to look away, unable to bear watching them bicker domestically over their groceries. “Yeah. Listen, um – I’m so sorry for your loss. Donghyuck was –“

“He was everything,” Mark interrupts sharply, and Jaemin stops in his tracks, picking up the hint that this is not a conversation topic to steer towards. He nods and swallows, taking a different direction.

“If there’s anything, seriously anything, that I can do to help – just say the word,” Jaemin says, softly, kindly, and Mark, to his credit, manages a weak smile in response.

“Thank you,” he says, and Jaemin can feel its sincerity. He knows this is not an appropriate time, not at all, but he still can’t help the way his chest puffs up a little in satisfaction. They end up walking together and talking, albeit stiffly, but still, Jaemin will take anything. Mark begins crying again when the funeral is taken outside and Donghyuck is buried, but this time, he has someone by his side, holding his shaking shoulders and catching his tears on their shirt.

*

Jaemin doesn’t see Mark for a while, after the funeral, and he tries not to let it get to him – he knows Mark must want to be alone. He can’t even imagine how difficult the outside world must be for him right now.

But after a month, when there’s still no sign of life – no answering Jaemin’s DMs, no social media activity, not even any appearances at the grocery store – is when Jaemin begins to worry. He decides to swing by Mark’s house, the one with sunflowers planted all around the outside, which had been Donghyuck’s favorite flower, and he tries to tamp down the pit of anxiety he feels when he knocks on the door, to no luck.

It takes a full minute for Mark to answer – Jaemin even considers leaving – but he nearly shakes with relief when he sees Mark at the door. He’s clearly exhausted and worn, cheeks sunk in, his undereyes looking so delicate and fragile, a hard clench to his jaw. But at least he’s alive and standing, and Jaemin can work with that.

“Mark, hi!” he says enthusiastically, trying to make up for the energy that Mark is sapping. Jaemin clears his throat. “I just wanted to stop by and, you know. Make sure you were alright, and everything.”

Mark’s lips tighten, and Jaemin regrets his words, a bit – of course Mark isn’t alright, he’s just spent a month alone after living with his husband for three years. But graciously, Mark manages a smile, and the words are tired but genuine. “Thank you, Jaemin. That was very thoughtful of you. Do you, maybe –“ Mark coughs, stammers over his words a bit, but then finally decides to continue. “Do you want to come in?”

Jaemin’s heart swells. “Yeah, sure,” he accepts softly, shyly stepping over the threshold into Mark’s home.

He’s immediately hit with the smell of something – he can only describe as – as _rotting._ Like Mark has literally been rotting away in here. He tries not to wrinkle his nose and throw a hand over his mouth in revulsion, but he seriously wants to gag with how awful the smell permeates every molecule in the air. He breathes through his mouth as he follows Mark to the living room, sitting on the couch when Mark offers, and Mark sitting on an armchair directly across from him.

“S-so,” Jaemin begins, trying not to choke. “What have you been up to?”

Mark brings a hand up to his neck and rubs the back, wincing. “Um, not much really. I just spend a lot of time in bed. I haven’t been eating much, um. Or showering. It’s just too hard right now, you know.”

Jaemin finds his heart breaking at the words, at Mark’s wilting frame, how completely helpless he looks. He’s overcome with a need to make him feel better. To comfort. “Yeah, I get it, Mark. And it’s alright.”

Mark finally meets his eyes, tired and miserable. “Is it really?” he asks suspiciously, and Jaemin nods emphatically.

“Of course. You’re grieving, it’s understandable. At least for now… hey, what if I, um. What if I came over, to help you out?”

That makes Mark lift his head, piquing his interest. “What?”

“You know,” Jaemin continues, wheedling now. “I could come over every day, just to help out around here. I could clean for you, and make sure you’re eating. Get you in the shower, if you need it. Just until you’re back on your feet.”

Mark is gaping, a puzzled look on his face, like he can’t quite figure out something. “That’s very kind, Jaemin, it’s just – I don’t understand why you would do that for me?”

Jaemin sighs, shaking his head, meeting Mark’s eyes with as much sincerity possible. “Because I care about you, Mark.”

Mark exhales shakily at that, and Jaemin frowns, worrying suddenly that he’s completely overstepped his boundaries here and upset Mark and possibly spun him into a panic attack and oh God, Jaemin doesn’t know how to handle those – but then Mark’s lips quirk up, spreading into a small smile, a light in his eye Jaemin hasn’t seen in him for a long while.

“That sounds really nice, Jaemin. I would love that.”

Jaemin breathes a long sigh of relief, and beams back at him, feeling his heart swell in satisfaction, in love, and privately, guiltily, in desire.

And so, Jaemin visits him every day. He works his shift in the morning, gets off mid-afternoon, and heads straight to Mark’s house. Within the first week, he’s already gotten Mark’s house smelling decent, something livable, at least. Within the second week, he’s luring Mark out of his room every day with the smell of his cooking, and he flushes in satisfaction every time he sees Mark chowing down on his food. And within the third week, Mark is showering every day, getting dressed in clothes for the day, and scheduling days to go to work in the upcoming week.  
It all feels so domestic, and Jaemin feels sharp shards of guilt in his chest every time he thinks that, sending silent prayers up to the sky that God will forgive him for trying to steal a dead man’s husband. As much as he feels guilty, he feels satisfaction and pleasure times ten. Finally, finally, he thinks – he’s getting the life he always wanted to live with Mark.

Now, if Mark would just fuck him. All would be well.

*

At the beginning, all he wanted was to get Mark feeling better. But now, now that the days continue on and Mark needs his help less and less, almost like he’s close to being his normal self, he feels tendrils of dread start to wind around his heart. If Mark is normal, happy again, he won’t need Jaemin around any longer – and that would break Jaemin’s heart, because he’s gotten so used to Mark’s presence now, he doesn’t know if he could stand to be apart from him.

Luckily, Mark never says a word about it, even when another week has passed of him going to work as usual, eating as usual, doing everything as usual. He greets Jaemin and tells him good morning when he wakes up from sleeping on the couch and compliments his food every day. The dread slowly starts to leave Jaemin as it continues like this, making room for hope instead.

One night, almost three months after Donghyuck’s passing, and two months that Jaemin’s been a helping hand, Mark gets drunk. Pulls wine out of his expensive looking cabinet, cracks it open, falls on the couch, and offers a drink to share with Jaemin. He has to work tomorrow, a long shift at the grocery store, so he feels like he should probably refuse – but Mark’s eyes are so cute and puppylike and his lips are pulled into a beg and what was Jaemin going to do, say no?

So they toast a glass of wine, and drink it together. And then another glass. And another glass. And another. And then Mark pulls out another bottle from the cabinet and they drink all of that too and then both of them are drunk. _Drunk_ drunk. A whole-two-bottles-of-wine-downed-in-an-hour drunk. And that’s the exact moment Jaemin can pinpoint where everything went wrong, when they finished off the second bottle and Mark’s hands suddenly reached for the hem of Jaemin’s shirt.

“Get this off, off,” Mark mumbles sluppily, voice gruff and dark, and Jaemin knew deep down that this was wrong but he’d been waiting for so long and his prefrontal cortex was so heavily impaired at the moment that he couldn’t do anything else but fall apart under Mark’s hands.

They undress each other quickly and Mark pins Jaemin to the couch, sucking hickies into the base of his throat, and Jaemin mewls like a kitten with each brush of his tongue. Mark kisses down his chest, giving two quick swipes over his nipples before trailing spit down his tummy and then pulling off his boxer briefs in one slick movement, taking Jaemin’s cock into his mouth.

“Ohh, _fuck,_” Jaemin groans, from a deep place in his throat, as he feels Mark’s soft, warm tongue swirl around the head of his cock, swiping up his precum. His spit dripping down his length. He winds his fingers in Mark’s hair, guiding him farther down until Mark’s nose is brushing his tummy, and Jaemin lurches when he feels the back of Mark’s throat.

“Mark, ‘m gonna cum,” he warns, and that finally makes Mark slide off with a pop, wiping the drool stringing from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Let me fuck you,” Mark orders, and a hot flush rises in Jaemin’s gut at how hot his voice is, how commanding, how dominant. It was just like he’d always imagined him, and his eyes nearly roll back at the realization that after all these years and years of pining, he was _finally_ going to get Mark’s cock inside him.

Together, with Jaemin scrambling and Mark’s firm, bruising hands on his hips, they flip Jaemin over and get his ass high in the air, spread open, waiting for Mark to use him. Jaemin can’t see but he can feel the lewd swishing of Mark gathering wetness in his mouth, before spitting directly into Jaemin’s hole, twirling bold fingers around his rim afterwards.

Jaemin whimpers under his touch, his legs trembling, and he gasps aloud when he feels Mark’s hot breath on him. He hears a tiny, smug laugh before Mark digs his tongue into him without warning, fucking in and out and slathering his spit all over, and it's all so slick and warm and fucking hot and Jaemin is going to lose it, fighting down the urge to scream by burying his face in his arm.

Finally, Mark seems to be done with him, and he rises to align himself and push slowly into Jaemin, the head of his cock catching on his rim before spreading open. They let out shared groans while he crawls forward, inch by inch, until bottoming out. Jaemin’s back arches. Mark, the love of his life, is fucking _inside_ him.

“Move, Mark,” he croaks, turning his head around, catching a glimpse of Mark hovering over him, a hard, determined, cold look in his eye. Mark settles one hand on Jaemin’s lower back to steady himself, before drawing back and slamming forward in a punishing rhythm, driving his cock even farther into Jaemin with each building thrust.

“Fuck, Mark, fuck, fuck,” Jaemin pants over and over, feeling drool slip from the corners of his mouth, feeling hair stick to the back of his neck with sweat. “Fuck me harder, please, need your cock!”

“Yeah?” Mark growls, slowing down his pace to nail deeper into Jaemin each time, hitting his prostate now. Jaemin cries out, in awe at how quickly the telltale heat builds and coils in his abdomen. “Is that why you came and helped me, all this time? To whore yourself out to me, to get my cock into you? Is that right, you fucking slut?”

“Yes, yes!” Jaemin cries, feeling so close now that his entire back was shaking. “Just wanted to be for you only Mark, always wanted it so fucking bad!”

Mark thrusts forward one more time, the head of his cock directly railing Jaemin’s prostate, and Jaemin’s hips stutter from the ecstasy of feeling so full. His tummy trembles when he cums, dripping sticky down his cock and in between the couch cushions. He breathes heavily through the aftershocks, but moans out again when he feels Mark spreading his warm seed in his ass soon after, groaning and painfully clenching his hands down on Jaemin’s hips to help ride it out.

They stay in that position for only a bit longer, before Jaemin hears Mark gasp, and feels a sudden scramble for escape - he pulls out roughly and Jaemin winces, feeling the warmth of Mark’s thighs disappear from his skin in an instant. He wheels around quickly, heart pounding.

“Mark?” he questions quietly, eyeing the boy sitting on the other end of the couch, far away from Jaemin, his head in his hands. 

“I can’t believe I just did that,” Jaemin hears him whisper, pained, every syllable stiff with _regret._ Jaemin feels tears stinging in his eyes.

He doesn’t really know what to say, but he knows his only priority is to comfort Mark, his own feelings put on the backburner. Still naked, with Mark fully clothed, his cock tucked back into his pants by now, Jaemin crawls over to him and tries to lay a gentle hand over his shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he soothes, “this was my fault, not yours, I’m sorry, it’ll be okay -”

“Okay?” Mark bites, angry and sharp, finally letting his face out of his hands to expose his wet, red cheeks. “I just cheated on my husband, for _you._ This is the farthest thing from okay.”

Jaemin hears that _for you,_ spoken so rough, dark, meant to cut down to his bones, and he feels his heart squeeze and burst and bleed inside his chest. Mark just broke his heart, and so he wants to break his, and his next words come without thinking. “Your husband is dead, Mark.”

He regrets it as soon as he says it, wants to reach forward and tear the words to shreds before Mark can hear them, but it’s too late. Mark lifts his head fully from his hands, a hard glower in his eyes, and he bares his teeth. “Get the fuck out of our house.”

Jaemin is stunned, still sitting fucking _naked,_ in Mark’s house, all of his clothes upstairs, all the groceries he brought in the fridge, his toothbrush in Mark’s bathroom… but then Mark hisses again, “fucking _leave!_” and that finally snaps Jaemin out of his daze. He scrambles forward for his clothes and dresses as quick as possible, afraid that Mark might physically shove him out the door if he doesn’t get a move on.

He slams the door as he leaves, and cries his entire walk back to his own house, swaying unsteadily on his feet from the wine.

*

Mark sends him a message, almost a month later. And Jaemin, still on the clock at work, nearly collapses on his feet.

_hey… i feel bad about how things ended :/ maybe you could come over sometime this week.. and we could talk?_

Jaemin feels breathless, his fingers shaking as he types out his reply.

_umm.. i dont know if thats the best idea. i feel like i intruded_

He sends it and then spots one of his managers hovering around the corner, so he quickly gets back to work, ignoring the buzz he feels in his pocket - both too scared to get caught and to read what Mark has to say. He forgets about it until he gets home hours later, a hard lump in his throat when he finally opens it.

_you really didnt intrude, im sorry i made you feel that way :( i would really like it if you came over, honest.. id like to see you_

And Jaemin hates, hates, hates the way that makes hope rise in his chest, something floating up from the depths, because he’s sure that this will probably end up just as badly as their first time did. But still - Mark is the love of his life, and probably always will be. He can’t say no to him.

He’s nervous, when he knocks on Mark’s door again for the first time in a month. He tried to wear clothes that best gave off the vibe of _unfuckable_ in case he accidentally tempted Mark again, because - what was it Mark called him, a whore? His whore? He flushes guiltily at that, how slutty he’d been, and he makes a resolve to not let that happen this time.

When Mark answers the door, Jaemin feels rooted to the spot in fear, and in shock. He looks - well. Jaemin swallows, his eyes sweeping over him. He looks… odd. He can’t quite place his finger on it. When Mark greets him with a warm smile and an excited call of his name, asking for him to please come inside, he’ll get him a drink, Jaemin obeys in a daze, and catches look in his eye that he thinks helps him clock it - Mark looks crazed.

He plops down on his couch - swallowing when he remembers that Mark fucked him hard into these cushions just a month ago - and blinks when Mark sits across from him in an armchair, looking at him a little too closely.

“So how have you been?” Mark asks, bright, and as Jaemin observes him he thinks he looks a lot more… sunny than the last time he’d seen him. _Much_ more sunny. He wonders what could have changed to make Mark so chipper, when just last month he’d kicked Jaemin out of his house for bringing up his dead husband. 

Jaemin doesn’t want to tell him the truth, that he’d spent a lot of nights crying, being consumed by guilt. So instead he just crosses his legs together and nods. “I’ve been good. Working a lot, you know.”

“Mm,” Mark nods, a sheen in his eye. “Listen, I kind of wanted to ask you about something. It’s a little… awkward. So don’t freak out.”

Jaemin holds his breath, his entire body tensing up - here it comes. He fucking _knew_ this wasn’t going to be any good - Mark just invited him here to berate him again for daring to lure him into giving him his cock, Jesus Christ he’s such a slut -

But then Mark coughs, still that weird look in his eye, and asks, “will you have sex with me again?”

Jaemin blanches. “U-uhm, wh-” he splutters, desperately trying to form a coherent thought, but Mark quickly jumps in to smooth things over.

“I just know that we had a good time together, last time. And I’m sorry that I, uh. Freaked out a little bit on you, there.” Jaemin blinks owlishly at him, not quite sure where this is going, a pit of anxiety slowly forming in his gut. “So I kind of wanted to try again… and promise that it will go a lot better this time.” He ends his words with a lick of his lips, and Jaemin’s mouth drops open. 

“I-” he stutters, scrambling for words as Mark pierces him with that uncanny stare of his. He feels like he’s suffocating. “I don’t really, um. I don’t think that’s a very good idea...” Jaemin feels the pit in his stomach grow even larger, start biting at his insides, when Mark sighs and lifts himself from the armchair, plopping down on the couch next to Jaemin instead. Before, this would’ve excited him, but now, with the weird look Mark’s got in his eye…

He puts a hand on his thigh and leans in close, and Jaemin shifts on the couch.

“Wouldn’t you be willing to try? For me, baby?” 

“Baby?” Jaemin recoils, drawing away from Mark’s breath fanning over his neck, but Mark’s hand tightens further on his thigh and he shivers.

“Yeah. Baby.” He smiles, leaning forward now to brush his lips over Jaemin’s neck, and Jaemin wants to fall, oh god he just wants Mark to pin him down and take him right here, but this doesn’t feel right, not at all, and so he breaks away from Mark’s mouth and draws his eyebrows as sternly as he can muster.

“But what about Donghyuck?” he asks, firm and outright, and he cringes, expecting Mark to fall apart like he did before. But now, Mark just shrugs and winds hands around his waist to pull him back again, a wetter kiss pressed to Jaemin’s skin now, and Jaemin feels like this reaction is even worse.

“Trust me, Jaemin. I don’t think he minds,” Mark whispers, his fingers getting bolder now, creeping under the hem of Jaemin’s shirt. 

“Minds?” Jaemin asks, trying to bite down a whimper as Mark trails along the skin of his stomach. Something about the wording feels off, like… he’s talking about Donghyuck in the present tense. As if he’s still here.

But Mark doesn’t seem to pick up on this anxiety, instead shaking his head, a small hush falling from his lips. “No, he doesn’t mind, I promise. Please, Jaemin, I want you. I think about you all the time now… you’re perfect for me.” He shifts forward now and pushes Jaemin down until they’re lying together on the couch, Mark straddling his hips, and Jaemin feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He can feel his cock getting harder in his jeans, feel his chest flushing and hairs raising on the back of his neck, and he wants, he wants so badly to freely take what Mark is offering him. But he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something - _bad_ about this situation here, so he tries one more time to protest, but then Mark’s mouth is sinking over his and any words he had to say are lost in his moan.

“I never got to kiss you,” Mark pants, settling heavier onto Jaemin now, pressing their chests together. “When we were together. Shame… you taste so good.”

Jaemin whines, daring to lift his arms up now and wind them around Mark’s back, pulling him closer to him, holding him in place. They kiss wetly for a few minutes, so much that Jaemin worries he’s about to choke on Mark’s saliva that’s been sopped into his mouth - but then Mark is pulling off, slinking down, and unbuckling Jaemin’s belt faster than he can blink.

Jaemin barely has time to let out a groaning “oh fuck” before Mark is taking his cock into his mouth, wet and warm and snug.

“Oh Mark,” Jaemin sighs, feeling far more blissful than he did last time, when it was quick and dirty and drunken. This feels purposeful. This feels like it’s been done with care. Mark tongues around his head, licks down his shaft, and his thighs tremble. “It feels so good Mark, your mouth so good…” Jaemin cards gentle, tender fingers through Mark’s curls, and Mark bobs even faster at his encouragement, Jaemin’s cock breaching his throat.

Jaemin wants to take his time with this, to cradle Mark’s face and praise him and enjoy the soft warmth, but then Mark is pulling off without warning, an impatient groan leaving him. And he yanks Jaemin’s pants down.

“Everything alright?” Jaemin asks timidly, as Mark forcefully whips off his shoes and gets his lower half naked. He seems frustrated. Even more frustrated when he grips the hem of Jaemin’s shirt and rucks it up, hard and fast, accidentally scratching Jaemin’s skin in an effort to get it around and off his head. 

Mark just grins, says “yeah, all good, I just want you so bad I’m in a hurry,” with a laugh, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Do you want to go take this up to my bedroom?”

The bedroom is one place that Jaemin was never allowed to enter. He could knock on the door, sure, but if he ever tried to peek his head inside, Mark would be at the door in the blink of an eye to block him from looking in. And though he’s still… unnerved by Mark’s odd duck behavior, he is burning with curiosity at what hides inside the room Mark used to share with Donghyuck.

So he nods, allows Mark to take him by the hand, and he feels awkward that he’s so exposed like this when Mark is still fully clothed but he’s too focused on the warmth of Mark’s hand in his to care as he trails behind him. They wind up the stairs, the anticipation tiding even higher inside Jaemin now. 

He tries to lean forward and peck a few kisses on the back of Mark’s neck as they walk through the hallway together, but Mark brushes him off, his focus completely on getting to his door. Just before Mark twists the handle Jaemin feels a flash of sudden, cold fear, prickling along his neck, but then they’re walking in and it’s a normal room with a normal bed and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“Go lie on the bed for me, baby,” Mark purrs, and the word is slowly settling in his mouth, sounding more comfortable and effortless, and warmth pools in Jaemin’s chest. He’s been overreacting, he thinks, with a small shake of his head. He climbs onto the bed, flopping onto his back, naked body spreading out comfortably on the covers. Mark’s only been trying to give him what he’s been aching for for years, after all… why’s he given him such reluctancy in return?

He decides, when Mark joins him on the bed and begins tracing fingertips down his naked torso, that he’ll go along fully with Mark from now on. He’ll be loyal and good and obedient, and settle into being Mark’s baby, and they’ll finally get to live together like he’s always dreamed, now that Donghyuck’s out of the way.

Mark strokes all the way down Jaemin’s body before giving his cock a few lazy, warm strokes, bringing Jaemin back to full hardness. Jaemin sighs and closes his eyes in bliss, preening under Mark’s comfortable touch, a flicker of arousal burning when he hears the rustling of Mark leaning forward and sliding open the dresser drawer.

He expects the next sound to be the pop of a lube bottle, but his eyes fly open in surprise when, instead, he feels something rough and itchy circling around his wrists.

“Mark?” he questions, small, but still warm and trusting, still sparkling in the looks he gives to him. Mark just brushes him off and continues his task, pressing small, black, nylon ropes into Jaemin’s wrists and tying him up to the bedposts.

“Just sh,” Mark says, only a little harsh, moving onto his other arm now, tacking on a halfhearted “baby” at the end to soften. The bedposts are far apart enough that by the time Mark is done and Jaemin is fully tied up, he can no longer lie down, his upper half hovering in the air and his arms straining to hold himself up.

“It hurts a little,” Jaemin winces, trying to end it with a chuckle, hoping it will break the tension beginning to form and incite Mark to offer up an explanation now. Jaemin did decide earlier that he would give Mark his complete trust, but - it’s not right that he’s sitting here, naked and immobile, chest beginning to flush with the strain it’s taking to hold himself up, while Mark has settled on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed. And silent.

That weird feeling is creeping up again and Jaemin has to swallow down the urge to panic.

“Mark? Is everything alright?”

A cry of alarm escapes Jaemin when Mark leaps forward suddenly, a foul grimace on his face, tears welling in his eyes, to growl, “of _course_ everything isn’t alright. He’s supposed to be here, now. I don’t fucking get why he’s not coming.”

Jaemin bites his lip, trying to conceal its wobbling. “Who? Who’s coming?”

_”Donghyuck!”_ Mark wails, as ugly and grief stricken as his cries the day of the funeral were. “He’s supposed to be here now, I did everything right! I got the house ready! I did all the spells! I brought _you_ here for him! Why aren’t you here, Hyuckie!”

And now, finally, the fear curdling heavy in Jaemin’s chest begins to dissipate. Begins to give way to something light and easy, something he probably hasn’t felt since before he learned the news of Donghyuck’s death: the urge to _laugh._

“Wait wait wait,” Jaemin says, shifting, as much as he can, to sit up and against the headboard, the strain on his arms and shoulders loosening slightly. “You - _spells?_ Trying to bring him here? Like, _summon_ him?”

Mark has obviously picked up on the way he’s trying not to giggle through every word, and he shoots him a withering, raging glare; he’d look scary if Jaemin wasn’t suddenly overcome with pity for the poor boy. “He’s probably aren’t coming because you aren’t _willing,_” Mark spits, crawling forward now to wind arms around Jaemin’s waist and yank him back down, and Jaemin yelps, feeling like he just tore something in his shoulder.

Jaemin is getting slightly annoyed; now that he knows what Mark’s deal is, he just wants this little - _episode_ to be over so Mark can fuck him and they can continue on with this little life Jaemin is planning for them in his head. He wonders… since, unfortunately, Mark has the upper hand here, at least physically (mentally, Jaemin things he’s about four leagues ahead of him at the moment)... he wonders if the best course of action is to just follow along. Give into Mark’s little twisted game, get this over with, and get some cock out of it all. 

“Mark,” he whispers, flexing against the ropes around his wrist, and Mark, who, though settled between his legs, had his face buried in his hands, looked up with tear stained cheeks. “I am willing, I promise. I’ll let him come, okay?”

“Really?” Mark sniffles, and. Jaemin can’t help but think the tears sparkling his eyes make him look cute. A little helpless.

“Mm,” Jaemin nods, and he impulsively tries to reach a hand forward to pet Mark’s hair, but jerks when he remembers his bounds. “Could you take these off me, please? They hurt. And we don’t need them, do we?”

“Oh no, no,” Mark says resolutely, his voice growing stronger again. “That’s what I read. You have to be bound and unmoving, everything has to be done so he can find you easier. Maybe… will you open up your chest more?”

Jaemin is getting ruffled again. He just wants Mark’s cock, not to have to break his shoulders attempting contortionism. But he said he’d play along, wouldn’t he? “Fine,” he grumbles, grabbing hold of the ropes to give himself leverage, bending his elbows, and tilting his head back to puff up his chest. It hurts, it fucking hurts to hold himself up like this. He wants to let go. 

But then Mark is giving him more directions, and he feels even more bound by his words than by the ropes tying him to the bedposts.

“Now expose your neck. Open your mouth. Open your eyes. Spread your legs. You need to open your body for him so he can come!”

Jaemin dutifully follows each order, feeling more and more exposed with each one complete, and… he knows this is all nonsense, but now, lying here so vulnerably, his entire body sweating from the tension in his muscles, feeling the fraught energy from the madman sitting with him on the bed… he’s starting to feel a little scared. He kind of just wants to go home. 

“Mark…” he says softly, squirming around on the mattress, unable to see him - so he has no warning for the sharp slap he receives on his soft cock. He cries out, his legs squeezing together in reaction, and he feels Mark’s rough hands slip between his thighs and spread them out again.

“Stay open!” Mark hisses, something crazed in his voice. “I think I can feel him!”

Jaemin scoffs, about to retort back, when - out of nowhere, between one instant and the next - he can feel it. Something cold and dark… creeping, slimy, sucking all the air out of the room, plunging them into ice cold water… a presence. A _thing._ Goosebumps shoot up over the entirety of Jaemin’s naked skin, his hairs rising, his spine freezing in fear. He feels a sharp, sudden, overwhelming urge to clamp his mouth and eyes shut, to shield himself. And so he does.

And in doing so, calls on the wrath of Mark. “No!” he cries, lunging forward to cram harsh fingers into Jaemin’s mouth, forcing it open once more. “You said you’d be willing, you fucking bitch!”

“No, no!” Jaemin sobs, almost choking on the strength of his terror, thrashing around on the bed. “Get me out of here, I’m scared! I’m scared, Mark, please!” 

His pleads fall on deaf ears, as Mark only forces his fingers into his mouth further, getting Jaemin’s spit everywhere, adding to the wetness of the tears leaking down his cheeks, the monstrous presence still lurking around the room all the while, honing in closer and closer, like sharks ravenously circling a sinking boat -

_”Mark!”_ Jaemin howls, so loud and so forceful Mark whimpers and cowers away. But. It doesn’t quite sound like Jaemin’s voice anymore. There’s an edge of something dark and heinous in his tone, the fear gone, replaced with anger, with strength, with _might._ The familiarity strikes Mark down to his bones.

“Donghyuck?” he dares to whisper, almost wondrously, afraid that anything less gentle will break the spell and tear his boy away from him once again. “Hyuckie? Are you there?”

A low groan, something pitiful, comes out of Jaemin’s body, his sore muscles flexing under his binds, and Mark scrambles to undo them carefully, rubbing and soothing Jaemin’s reddened skin after. “Can you talk, Hyuck?” Mark whispers bringing Jaemin’s hand up to press a small kiss to the inside of his wrist.

Jaemin’s head shakes, but his fingers ghost over the pads of Mark’s lips, feeling the soft, dry skin. Jaemin’s fingers start exploring further, rubbing a thumb along Mark’s chin, cradling his cheek and stroking his red cheekbones, fluttering over his eyelashes, pressing tenderly into his undereyes.

Jaemin’s voice mumbles something, rough and creaky, like it’s been clogged with dust, and Mark, who’d been busy reveling under the touch of Donghyuck, snaps attention to him immediately. “What is it, baby? C’mon, you can say it, work hard, I know you can do it.”

It takes an unbelievable strain, this entire body and mind and tongue placement and set of vocal chords unfamiliar to Donghyuck, but he finally manages to get it out with a stutter. _“Missed you.”_

Mark chokes. “Oh fuck, Hyuckie,” he says with a near sob, voice cracked with emotion. He reaches forward to cradle his face, feeling Jaemin’s skin but looking into Donghyuck’s eyes. “I missed you so much too, oh god, I missed you more than anything I could ever want ever again.”

They smile and laugh in awe and wipe the gathering tears from each other’s eyes, each looking at each other for the first time in months. Donghyuck has suddenly been thrown back into a body, a body of substance, a body with skin that feels, and he can’t stop touching Mark, feeling his warmth, using these fingers that aren’t his to trace every line and muscle and curve of Mark’s body, learning his boy all over again. They’re both mesmerized. They’re both touch drunk. 

Donghyuck, in Jaemin’s body, using Jaemin’s muscles and nerves and bones and sense of touch, clumsily wraps unfamiliar fingers around Mark’s wrist and brings it down, down, down to a place that is the most unfamiliar of all. Unfamiliar shock waves pulse all over Donghyuck when Mark’s hand brushes against this unfamiliar cock, but it’s not a pleasure unwelcomed.

“W-want you,” Donghyuck manages to get out, still getting used to the way it sounds so gravelly and deep when he speaks, a voice entirely not his.

“Yeah, baby? Are you sure it’s okay? Using him?” Mark says, concern drawing his eyebrows, his touch still feather light on Jaemin’s cock. Donghyuck whimpers and nods, swallowing down to screw up enough effort to get the words out.

“Yes… will feel good, because… it’s you.”

Mark nods and smiles at him again, so sunny and loving and bright, something not seen on his face since the date night they’d been having before Hyuck decided to make a fateful midnight run to a store. “Okay, okay baby. It’ll be for you only… not him, for you.”

Donghyuck nods and groans, feeling Mark’s touch getting bolder now on Jaemin’s - _his,_ now, he guesses, at least for the time being - cock. But the pleasure sparks up in Donghyuck in the same way it always has, burning behind his tummy and making his legs shake, and he thinks this won’t take much getting used to - it was a good body Mark found to use. Firm, strong. Adaptable. 

When the heel of Mark’s hand pushes into his cockhead, and pleasure shoots up Donghyuck’s spine, he thinks - yeah, this’ll all work out nicely. “M-mouth,” he croaks out, on the edge of a moan as Mark’s begun to twist in earnest around his shaft.

“Mm, you must’ve missed my mouth,” Mark mumbles, sly and coy, and Donghyuck resists the urge to roll his eyes, lightly flicking Mark’s forehead when he sinks down between his legs. 

The first brush of Mark’s tongue is charged, coiled, both of them a little too eager and clumsy to start pleasuring each other again after such time spent apart. Spit begins to build at the corner’s of Mark’s mouth as he bobs his head up and down, hands clenching down on the skin of Donghyuck’s thighs to ground his squirming. 

The pants falling from Donghyuck’s mouth are unlike his, too spaced out, too breathy - and Mark misses the way _his_ Donghyuck sounds, so pitchy and whiny and utterly beautiful. But - despite the use of another’s body, this _is_ Hyuck, falling apart under Mark’s wet cavern of a mouth, and he’s so happy beyond any shred of imagination to have his baby back that he’ll take any sound from him, absolutely any.

Even a disgruntled whine, when he’s been sucking and licking for a few minutes, spit dribbling down the shaft of Donghyuck’s cock and beginning to make a mess of the sheets. “D-down,” Hyuck gets out with difficulty, spreading his legs, to reveal a small, clenching pink hole, rutting down on the sheets.

“Ohh, so impatient huh?” Mark says when he pops off lewdly, wiping the excess slickness on his mouth with the back of his hand. “Has it been a while?” 

Donghyuck rolls his eyes at Mark’s stupid, dumb, awful joke, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better view while he berates him, but then Mark is ducking down and flicking his tongue over his hole and Hyuck collapses back down onto the mattress, hands twisting in the sheets.

“You always loved this more than anything, when it was you,” Mark mumbles between his kitten licks, his tongue slowly delving deeper into Donghyuck with each swipe. “Does it still feel as good?”

“_Yes,_ Mark, yes!” Donghyuck whines, squirming and shaking when Mark’s swipes turn feverish now, hungry and intruding and deep, the spit spilling into Donghyuck’s hole and dribbling down into the sheets below. Mark pulled away, panting and out of breath, to bring two fingers up and swirl the tips around in the mess he made, pushing forward just slightly to put pressure on Donghyuck’s hole.

Donghyuck hisses, back arching off the bed - good god, is Jaemin a virgin? Why is he so fucking tight? Even the slow press of one of Mark’s fingers _hurts,_ burning and stretching, and tears gather in Donghyuck’s eyes as he winces under it.

“Hurts, Mark…” he mumbles, as Mark has begun pumping in and out, the burn not yet giving way to pleasure like it normally does by this time. Mark coos softly and leans forward to press a kiss to Donghyuck, the lips chapped, not like Donghyuck’s ever were, but just the knowledge that it’s _him_ under there is enough for Mark.

He breaths into his mouth. “I’ll get lube, baby, but you need to relax and breath. It’s not yours, you have to get used to it.”

Donghyuck nods, opening his eyes, presses one more sweet peck to Mark’s lips. “Trust you,” he gets out, the words so genuine and honest Mark startles, wondering, for a brief second, if that was Jaemin’s voice, or Donghyuck’s.

He pulls the lube out of their dresser drawer and pours a copious amount all over his fingers, and even more directly onto Donghyuck’s hole for good measure. And slowly, with care and attention, he opens Donghyuck up, spreads him open, gets him comfortable and pliant and sunken into the bed - and by the time Mark is pistoning three fingers in and out of him, he would almost say Donghyuck looks like _Donghyuck,_ like he’s found a sense of ease. 

“Are you feeling ready now baby?” Mark whispers, falling forward once again, pressing kisses down Donghyuck’s exposed neck. His heart pangs when he remembers that this Donghyuck doesn’t have the mole in the center of his throat that he loved so dearly.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck pants into his ear, his legs shaking under Mark’s weight now, and Mark presses one last kiss to his shoulder before leaning back and settling on his heels, lining up between Donghyuck’s spread thighs. 

Mark strokes himself a couple times before pressing the head of his cock forward, teasing at Hyuck’s hole, and the boy whimpers under him, a sound so needy and bratty it almost sounds like it could have come out of Hyuck’s own mouth.

“Please,” Donghyuck mewls, meeting Mark’s eye, and Mark feels a clench around his heart when he looks down into him and can _see_ Donghyuck, even though the eyebrows and the eye shape and the color are all wrong. It’s _Donghyuck._ He can feel him here.

Mark presses forward slowly, centimeter by centimeter, keeping their eyes locked the entire time until he’s buried to the hilt. “You feel so good,” Mark whispers, making sure to place emphasis on the _you,_ and Donghyuck whimpers and throws his head back, clenching around Mark’s cock buried fully inside him.

“M-move, please,” Donghyuck asks quietly, while also reaching forward and pawing Mark’s chest, trying to get him to fall down, to cover him with his weight. Mark gets in a few nailing thrusts that draw moans from Donghyuck’s throat before he complies, burying his face in the warmth of Donghyuck’s neck, breathing in this scent that is both like and unlike him at once. 

Mark crawls hands down and around Donghyuck’s waist to give himself purchase before thrusting in earnest now, his own moans from the feeling of Donghyuck’s tight and warm and giving walls around his cock lost in the sweat of Donghyuck’s skin. The headboard creaks and their skin slaps together and Donghyuck is panting and whining and crying, scratching nails into Mark’s back and clenching tight around him, still, even in a body that’s not his, pulling Mark into his gravity. 

“I love you,” Mark whispers, his voice a wineglass balanced precariously on a shelf - wobbling, unsteady, likely to break. One of his hands unwinds from Donghyuck’s trembling waist to sneak into his hair, cradling his head closer, hold him in place for the line of kisses he mouths along his shoulder. “I love you, Donghyuck, it’s so hard to live without you.”

Donghyuck throws his head back and whines, sharp pleasure burning him up from the inside out where Mark’s cock hits his prostate. “I love you more, Mark,” he whispers back feverishly, his own cock trapped between the press of their stomachs, beginning to get rubbed raw from the rocking of their bodies together. “Always, always.”

Mark mumbles that he’s close in Donghyuck’s ear and twin shivers run up their backs and finally, finally Mark sneaks a hand between their bodies to wrap around Donghyuck’s neglected cock and they draw each other closer and closer, sharing warmth and skin and moans, faces buried in each other’s necks, short but nonetheless sincere “I love yous” floating up to each other’s ears. They make love with a borrowed body and all the while, Jaemin watches, inexplicably, from above.

He has no voice and no head and therefore no thoughts but he watches in agony - ripped away from his own body, forced into drifting, unable to tear away from the sight of the boy he’s loved for years upon years fucking his body with a love that wasn’t there when he himself occupied it. Jealousy, rage, terror, misery, all of those words are foreign to Jaemin now that he’s untethered. He’s agony only.

Something seems to come to a close when Donghyuck yelps and bites Mark’s lip and cums all over their stomachs, and Mark groans and sucks a hickey into Donghyuck’s shoulder and cums inside him, his warm seed spreading. The bliss of their orgasms is shortlived and overtaken by a sense of urgency and panic, and Mark is the first to speak, pulling back and pressing Jaemin’s face between his cheeks to look into Donghyuck’s eyes.

“No! _No!_ You can’t go, I can’t see you go again! You can’t leave me again Hyuckie you can’t! Please, baby please, I’ll kill myself to be with you!”

Tears begin to spill down his cheeks with each word building his terror, and he collapses on Donghyuck’s chest, sobs grief-stricken. Donghyuck, though much wiser than Mark, isn’t immune to his emotion - he begins to cry along with his boy, their wailings filling the room, probably loud enough to be heard down the street if people weren’t so avoidant of this house.

They cry and cry and cry together, mourning all over again, before finally Donghyuck manages to pull himself together, spurned on from the dwindling down of time.

“Mark,” Donghyuck says, once his voice has recovered enough from his crying, now steady and even and accepting of his fate. “Look at me.”

When Mark raises his head, his face red and wrecked, Donghyuck almost loses it again. But he steels himself, resolves to only wiping a few stray tears from Mark’s chin, and continues. “I won’t be gone. You know I’m always with you.”

Another stream of tears falls from Mark’s eyes, but he only bites his lip this time, the acceptance hitting him now, too. Donghyuck wraps a hand around the nape of his neck and pulls him forward, pressing their foreheads together, and his next whispered words are a feverish stream, instructions. Mark listens carefully and brands down each word into his memory, nodding along like an innocent school boy.

When Donghyuck is finished, they both know the time is up, but - his words have soothed Mark, mended his heart again with the same hope he felt that first day he discovered he could bring his husband back from the dead, and there are no tears left between them now as Donghyuck says goodbye - only a long, wet, soothing kiss.

Before everything is returned to its proper place, Donghyuck, on his way back to the afterlife, and Jaemin, back to the earth, meet. They don’t touch or speak or even look at each other, but nonetheless, Donghyuck gets it across to Jaemin. _I’ve seen your mind and I’ve read your heart. Stay with him, keep him company… he’ll grow to like you. You can have him every day except for one of the month, and then he is mine again. That is how this will be._

When Jaemin is thrown back into his body, it’s fucking painful. Like he’s experienced the entirety of his growth stages compressed into one second, awkward and sharp and scraping. He feels like he’s been beaten up. He feels Mark’s lips on his and he tries to kiss back, for a brief second, but Mark catches him in the act and pulls back, a grimace on his face. And that makes Jaemin feel like he’s been beaten up even worse.

He tries to speak but what comes out is a croak - he clears his throat, acclimating to the rough and tumble of his voice again. When he finally has the strength for the words, to make it properly accusatory, his tone is withering. “How fucking dare you do that to me.”

At least Mark has the decency to look remorseful.

“You, you just -” Jaemin stumbles now, tripping over his words, his anger spilling over uncontrolled. “You just fucking _used_ \- you - that was so dangerous, I had no idea where I was, something seriously bad could’ve happened to me, and - it _hurt,_ and I could’ve _died,_ just for you to get your - your stupid fucking dead husband back -”

“I know,” Mark interrupts, small but sharp. “I know, Jaemin. I’m sorry. I’ll let you go, okay, you don’t ever have to see me again, I’d understand -”

Jaemin shakes his head, scoffing. Even though Mark’s literally just performed black magic on him and brought a dead spirit to possess his body, the notion of being apart from him forever is unbearable. What Donghyuck told him comes to mind, and a rush of understanding floods him, of how it will be from now on - and he finds that it’s something he can handle. 

Jaemin sits up, rubbing his wrists from the phantom pain of the ropes. He straightens his back and puffs his chest and locks his jaw, making himself as domineering and stern as possible, before addressing Mark. He looks into his eyes coldly, seriously, and judging from Mark’s swallow, he knows that whatever words come out of his mouth are going to be listened to.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.”

*

Everyone is pleased to hear the news of Mark and Jaemin. They see them start to frequent places around town on dates - new ones, never places that Mark and Donghyuck used to go. They are polite and happy and glowing, giggling, holding hands and trading pecks. It’s heartwarming.

Clearly, Jaemin has brought Mark’s sunniness and charm back to life - not quite at the level it was when he had Donghyuck by his side, but. That’s how life goes. In any case, people are relieved that Mark doesn’t blacken rooms when he crosses their doors any longer, and life has returned back to normal, and guilt no longer needs to be felt over thoughts of Donghyuck. Mark has a new boy now and Donghyuck, rest his soul, can finally pass in peace.

Jaemin, _finally,_ gets to live a life with Mark as he’s always dreamed, and he settles into it beautifully. He makes Mark breakfast in the morning and straightens his tie before he goes to work. Mark always gives him cheek kisses in thanks and holds his hand when they go out and lets Jaemin sleep next to him in bed, and they’ve even started having sex together, and the feeling Jaemin gets when Mark moans _his_ own name while he fucks him is indescribable. Things are good. Things are normal. Things are happy.

And once a month, on the same scheduled day that they both take off of work, Jaemin allows himself to be tied up and taken over. He begins to look away when Mark fucks Donghyuck wearing his body, unable to bear watching the way Mark loosens up completely and fucks harder and faster and mumbles words to Donghyuck that Jaemin knows he will never get to hear himself. 

It’s an hour a month that Jaemin allows Donghyuck to have his husband back. But then Jaemin returns, getting more and more used to the outings every time, and it - being possessed, that is - begins to feel routine. Mark is always a little wary to kiss and hold Jaemin again, afterwards, but Jaemin presses and Mark gives in and the month passes as usual and the whole thing cycles through, again and again.

It’s not perfect, but it’s good - if Jaemin can’t have Mark in full, he’ll take any pieces he can get.

**Author's Note:**

> [twt]() 🕸 [cc](https://curiouscat.me/homerunning)


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